


Is It More Than You Bargained For Yet?

by Masterofceremonies



Series: Living in Duat|Omega!Verse| [2]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Cannibalism, M/M, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofceremonies/pseuds/Masterofceremonies
Summary: Sequel to Alpha Fights. Hannibal and Will are living together with their semi-adopted roommate.Sure, three can be a crowd.But who exactly is the third wheel?





	1. Attitude Adjustment

Will was used to eating alone. In silence. The occasional meal in the FBI cafeteria, or dinner with Hannibal hadn’t prepared him for what it was like to have… family dinners. Especially not with Jason, who usually kept up a ceaseless flow of chatter, discussing whatever he’d seen or done that day, the newest TV show he’d started watching or book he’d read, some news story that caught his attention, or what the dogs had been up to while Will was at work, briefly interspaced by Hannibal’s questions and Will’s own soft laughter or sly remark.

It suited them all just fine. Will had never much liked silences between people, but he’d never been very good at conversation, which meant most social situations ended up with forced, stilted small talk, or worse, prying questions into his own life that he’d have to deflect or risk raising alarm. Hannibal too preferred to listen rather than talk. His role as a therapist was only one example of this, and while he did enjoy showing off his wit and knowledge, he preferred to do so in reaction to others, in controlled doses, in order to prevent being labeled as a braggart.

Jason, on the other hand, loved to talk, something Will had been surprised to discover given the boy’s moody and withdrawn nature for the first few weeks he’d lived with them.

He hadn’t even come down to dinner at first, something that Hannibal had taken as a personal affront, especially given the fact that Jason would sneak downstairs later and make his own meal after Hannibal and Will had gone to sleep.

Will has suggested that the food Hannibal cooked was a bit too rich for an 18 year old boy’s palate, and Hannibal had taken it to heart, switching to a more straightforward style of cuisine in the hopes that it would lure Jason out of his room.

Will then had to beg Jason to come to dinner, admitting to the boy that he’d used him as an excuse to try and tamp down on Hannibal’s flare in the kitchen.

“I’ve eaten organs I’ve never heard of from animal’s I’m not sure exist.” Will hissed through Jason’s closed and locked door, annoyed with himself for caving to that particular demand in the first place while nervously glancing down the hall lest Hannibal make an appearance. “I had to tell him something, but if you don’t come down and eat with us once in awhile he’ll give up and switch back. I’m _begging_ you. Suffer through it, just… once or twice a week. I miss plain pasta with red sauce and steak that looks like steak.”

Jason had opened the door and glared at Will, obviously trying not to laugh. “Why don’t you just tell him? What’s the worst that can happen?”

Will pushed Jason into his room and shut the door behind them, glad for once that Jason had picked the room farthest from his and Hannibal's. “I just can’t. He gets… he pouts. Ok?”

“So let him pout.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“It’s not that…” Will let out a frustrated noise, tossing his hands in the air. “Last week he tried to feed me a bird embryo, and-”

“You mean an egg?” Jason interrupted.

“No.” Will looked him dead in the face, normal aversion to eye contact overcome by the more pressingly horrific memory of what Hannibal had served. “A bird embryo. Fertilized. Like… in a week or two it would have been a bird, but Hannibal boiled it first.”

Jason made a gagging noise and Will nodded emphatically. “I _know_.”

“And you ate it?!” Jason looked horrified.

“God, no.” Will shuddered. “I told him there’s a line, and the line was jellied bird embryos.”

“ _Jellied?!_ Sweet Jesus…” Jason plunked down on the tangled mess of sheets and covers atop his bed, looking vaguely ill.

“I wasn’t _rude_ , I just told Hannibal I’d pass. I even said it had nothing to do with his cooking, it was just the dish, and tried to liken it to being vegetarian…”

“Is there a version of vegetarianism where you don’t eat fertilized embryos? Because I think that describes my diet.” Jason muttered.

“It describes most of the world’s diet.” Will agreed. “But Hannibal wouldn’t see reason. He sulked for _days_ and…” He hesitated and lowered his voice. “Cut me off from sex.”

“Oh _gross!_ ” Jason recoiled. “That’s worse than the bird jelly! Why the fuck would you tell me that?!”

“Because you wouldn’t just do me a favor so I had to tell you what’s at stake here!” Will whisper-shouted.

“Alright! Jesus! I’ll come to dinner; just never mention… any of that. Ever again.” Jason flopped back, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to his face. “Ugh. I’ll be lucky if I don’t puke all over the table just from the images you’ve burned into my retinas.”

“If you puke on his table during dinner, Hannibal will kill you.” Will said flatly, turning to leave.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Jason mumbled, but Will had already shut the door behind him.

So Hannibal had made normal, no jelly involved, rosemary chicken, asparagus, and potatoes, and Jason had come down, albeit in his pajamas, and they had eaten together.

The first night was mostly silent, Hannibal asking Will and Jason questions and getting sparse and short replies in return, which was obviously frustrating him. Jason picked at his food, and Will noticed Hannibal watching his every bite with an unusually sharp focus. He was ready to chalk this up as a failure, and prepare himself for a return to strange dishes he couldn’t identify, but the next night he found Jason back at the table without having to call him down.

That night Hannibal didn’t ask any questions, instead recounting the first time he’d prepared that particular dish, shrimp pesto, when he was traveling around Italy in his youth. Will felt more at ease, though it was strange that Hannibal talked so much. In the end, it was worth it. Jason even smiled.

The next night, Jason helped set and clear the table.

The night after that, Will found him in the kitchen, watching Hannibal cook. Neither one of them spoke, and Will doubted they even noticed him watching from the door.

The night after that, Jason didn’t come down, and Will was afraid he’d gone back to isolating himself, but Hannibal didn’t seem upset, nor did he give any indication that they should try to coax Jason out of his room like they’d done a dozen times before.

Sure enough, the next night, he came downstairs just as Hannibal and Will were sitting down. Hannibal had set three places, as he always did, and Jason sat down without fanfare as Hannibal served the canapés he’d prepared.

“The museum of modern art has started a traveling expedition of Van Gogh’s work. It’s due to pass through here this weekend.” Hannibal brought up after they’d all had a chance to try the food.

“Jack mentioned that a few days ago.” Will nodded. “Apparently it’s causing quite a few problems for him.”

“Surely the FBI isn’t concerned with potential art thieves.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“Not usually, no.” Will shook his head. “But the exhibit requires increased security, and that means a lot of uniformed officers either pulling extra shifts or being temporarily transferred, so he doesn’t have the resources he normally does. Crowd control’s been a nightmare. Freddie Lounds has managed to sneak into the last three crime scenes and snap plenty of photos.”

“Where’s the exhibit?” Jason inquired, eyes flicking up briefly from his plate.

“The Smithsonian is hosting, I believe. It’s a ticketed event, though. Not open to the public.” Hannibal answered.

“Of course.” Will snorted. “God forbid they let the uncultured masses lay eyes on a Van Gogh without traveling up to New York or forking over a wad of cash for the privilege.”

“How much are the tickets?” Jason frowned stabbing his canapé with a particularly violent gesture.

“A couple grand.” Will shrugged.

“It actually depends on whether or not you’re a regular benefactor.” Hannibal eyed Jason’s decimation of his food carefully before continuing. “If you’re not a member, a single ticket is $5,000. If you are, it’s $2,500. Excluding the after party tickets, which range from $200 to $500 depending on the level of access.”

“Jesus fuck.” Jason set his fork down and stared at Hannibal. “Five grand just to see a painting?”

“It’s to support the arts.” Hannibal smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “There’s music and food and occasionally dancing. It’s more of a party than an exhibit. Most people only use the art pieces as an excuse to show off their knowledge. If they lack that, then it’s an excuse to show off their new dress. Or wealth.”

Will snorted into his food. “You’re one to talk. You go to those kinds of things regularly.”

Hannibal bowed his head in acquiescence. “I have a weakness for fine art and fine dining. The company, however, usually leaves something to be desired.”

“You buy a $5,000 ticket to eat food and look at art?” Jason glanced around. “You can stay here and do that for free!”

Will burst into laughter, and even Hannibal cracked a smile.

“I suppose I could. But I am also in favor of supporting the arts, and as it’s a rather… niche market, they have to charge high amounts in order to reach their goals. Unlike football, they don’t have stadiums to fill and televised events.”

“Maybe if they charged less they’d be able to fill stadiums.” Jason countered. “Talk about niches all you want, but it’s self created by elitism and snobbishness.”

“I agree.” Will gave Hannibal a semi-apologetic look, somewhat ruined by his grin. “$5,000 or $5 makes no difference. You’d never catch me dead at one of those things, and it’s because of the people, not the art.” He raised his wine glass in a mocking toast before taking a sip.

“Pity.” Hannibal sniffed. “I’d procured two tickets for this Saturday and was hoping you’d attend with me.”

Will set down his glass, looking a little guilty, but mostly exasperated. “Hannibal… don’t buy a $5,000 ticket for me without asking first, or things like this will happen. I hope you can get your money back.”

“It’s non-refundable.” Hannibal didn’t seem bothered by this fact. “But I’m sure someone else would like to attend. Perhaps Dr. Bloom is free.”

“I’ll go.” Jason blurted, causing Hannibal to do the closest thing to a double take that Will had ever seen the doctor perform.

“It’s black tie.” He cautioned.

“Duh.” Jason rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t gonna show up in ripped jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Do you own a tuxedo?” Will asked, trying to picture Jason in anything besides casual wear and failing.

“No.” He frowned. “I can get one though.” He glanced at Hannibal. “Well, you can get me one. Didn’t you want to drag me to your tailor anyway?”

Hannibal nodded slowly, glancing at Will in a silent query, but he was met with just as much confusion from the other omega as he felt himself.

“I don’t _have_ to go.” Jason sensed the hesitation from the other two men, abruptly standing and grabbing his plate. “I just like art. And you already have the ticket. And if company sucks already it’s not like I’m gonna make it worse.” He turned and headed into the kitchen. “But I know I’m not exactly high society and like I said before it’s all elitism and my presence might be hard to explain given the fact that I’m an unbounded omega who’s not related to either of you and also kind of a runaway and shit so.” He shrugged. “Whatever.”

Hannibal gave Will another bewildered look before standing and following Jason into the kitchen where the boy was already washing his plate.

“If you’d like to attend I’d be more than happy to take you.” Hannibal assured him, staying a fair distance away from the omega so as not to crowd him and trigger a panic response. “Honored, actually. I’m sure you’ll be better company than the regular attendees.”

“Really?” Jason turned the water off and dried his hands, back facing Hannibal at all times. “Cause I’ll probably say the wrong thing and embarrass you. Or eat too loud or fidget with my suit too much or forget to laugh at some assholes bad joke. I’m bad at minding my p’s and q’s around normal people, much less snobbish, uptight, narcissists.”

“You’ll do fine. Stepping on a few toes might liven things up a bit.” Hannibal heard Will enter the kitchen, but he remained by the door, passively watching the other two talk.

“Alright.” Jason’s shoulders relaxed and he turned to face Hannibal, though his expression was still guarded, almost nervous. “But only cause it’s Van Gogh.”

“Excellent.” Hannibal smiled, and Will saw his arms twitch, like he was about to move to embrace the boy, but thought better of it. “We can visit my tailor tomorrow. He’ll have to put a rush on things, but I’m sure he can have a tuxedo ready for you by Saturday.” He paused, considering. “Would you be amenable to having a few other things made as well? He’ll already have your measurements. It would be practical to have more than one suit.”

“All tuxedos look the same anyway.” Jason wrinkled his nose. “What does it matter? I can rent one if I need to.”

Hannibal looked nauseated at the thought. “Rented tuxedos do not look the same as bespoke ones, believe me. It will be my gift to you. And there are other types of suits besides black tie. Nothing extravagant, I assure you. No paisley or plaid. Just something to wear in case you’re going to an event with a dress code somewhere in between a cocktail party and a Netflix marathon.”

“It’s not that bad.” Will spoke up. “I went there after Hannibal talked me into it. He just fusses around you with a measuring tape and shows you some color options and then makes it for you.”

“Fine.” Jason tossed his hands up. “But I swear to _god_ if you show me a single paisley tie I will _lose my shit_.” And with that he left, pausing right before he was out of earshot to toss back a mumbled “and thanks… I guess” before rushing upstairs.

“Want me to come with you two to the tailor?” Will wound his arms around Hannibal from behind, still adjusting to the fact that he was allowed to touch, to bury his head in Hannibal’s shoulder and enjoy the sharp smell of alpha that the man exuded.

“I’d imagine Jason would prefer there be fewer witnesses.” Hannibal reached back and stroked Will’s curls gently, letting out a pleased rumble as he felt him press closer. “He continually surprises me with his interests. Just the other day I found him watching a children’s cartoon on the television. I could barely follow the plotline but he seemed truly invested.”

“He’s barely more than a child and already a grown man.” Will sighed. “I know most of the things you two discussed fall under confidentiality, but from what you’ve told me, he had to grow up pretty fast. I’d imagine that he feels the need to act as closed off and hostile as he does in order to protect himself.”

“I’d agree.” Hannibal turned so they were facing each other and he could embrace Will fully. “Your ability to read people never fails to astound me, Will.”

“It _is_ my job.” Will chuckled. “And… I mean, I understand that sort of thing. Personally.” Hannibal didn’t respond, breath and heartbeat as even and steady as before, giving Will plenty of time and room to speak. “My father…” Will began, then sighed. “I had to grow up fast too. Wanting to go back and reclaim a childhood you never had is something I’m more than familiar with.”

“That doesn’t explain his affinity for ‘snobbish things’.” Hannibal pointed out. “Music, art, even literature. I’ve caught him rifling through my library more than once. He’s picked up theatrical texts, psychology dissertations, classical novels… the only tastes of his that seem… underdeveloped are television, food, and clothing.”

“Well there’s not a lot of intellectual TV programs out there, but he does watch more than cartoons. I know you don’t even like going into the TV room but I’ve seen him watching documentaries and horror films alongside sitcoms and dramas.” Will pulled back, looking up at Hannibal, pleased that the man was larger enough that he could feel safe without being so much bigger that he had to crane his neck or stand on tiptoe just to kiss him, which, incidentally, was what they did next.

“My question is…” Will murmured after they broke apart, eyes still half shut. “Which of his tastes are innate, which are acquired, and which are symptoms of his past rather than his personality?”

Hannibal hummed, considering this for a moment before reaching down and picking Will up, placing him on the counter and slipping between his legs.

“That,” he leaned in to nuzzle Will’s throat, “is an excellent question. And one I wish to devote more than a portion of my attention to. Unfortunately, you are making that rather difficult at the moment.”

“Is that right?” Will grinned, spreading his legs wider as he felt a slow warmth spreading through him. “And how you do suggest we remedy that, exactly?”

“I have several ideas.” Hannibal nipped at his jaw, hands running up Will’s thighs in a leisurely manner before drifting back down to his knees. “All of which require a demonstration.”

“Mmhmm…” Will tilted his head back, planting his palms on the counter to keep himself upright, content to let Hannibal take his time and explore. “Why don’t you take me upstairs and show me, then? We can leave the dishes for tomorrow.”

“Mm. Actually.” Hannibal captured Will’s lips in a kiss, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt as he did so. “Since I’m already planning on cleaning the kitchen tomorrow…” He didn’t finish his sentence, merely slid his hands under Will’s shirt and across his stomach, causing him to let out a quiet moan and arch into the touch.

“Whatever- wherever you’re going with this, I don’t care.” Will panted. “As long as you _get there_.”

Hannibal laughed and nosed Will’s curls, brushing his lips against his ear as he did so. “I intend to.” He breathed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take my time… and enjoy it.”

Will let out a frustrated whine and dragged Hannibal into a still smiling kiss.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He groaned, hooking his legs around Hannibal’s waist and tugging the man closer.

“Quod erit vobis, my darling.” Hannibal replied, his choice to speak Latin during foreplay briefly annoying Will before he was overcome by need once again. “And how beautiful a thought that is.”


	2. Refuse Thy Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shakespeare quotes because Hannibal is pretentious. Greek mythology references because I'M pretentious.

“I changed my mind,” Jason grumbled, looking exceedingly unhappy and even more out of place in the waiting room of Hannibal’s tailor.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hannibal laid a hand on Jason’s leg and squeezed comfortingly.

“I’m the ridiculous one?” The boy scoffed. “I’m sitting on a velvet chair right now.  _ Velvet _ . I’m the least ridiculous person  _ or _ thing in this entire place, and yeah, I’m including you.”

“I’ve known Mr. Moirai for years. He’s quite practical, I assure you.”

“Practical? And he makes  _ your _ suits?” Jason fixed Hannibal with an incredulous look.

“Do they look bad on me?” Hannibal met Jason’s stare with a placid smile.

“…no.” Jason admitted sourly. “But that’s just because of your ridiculous cheekbones and accent. It draws so much attention away from the suits that you could wear a bowtie around your dick and no one would notice.”

“They might fail to notice the bowtie but my cheekbones wouldn’t be what distracts them,” Hannibal replied, just a bit too smugly.

“Ok.  _ Ew _ . And goodbye.” Jason stood as if to leave, but was stopped by the appearance of an old man with deep brown skin, offset by his white and grey hair.

“Dr. Lecter.” He bowed, voice as rich as the maroon fabric he was clothed in. “And who is this young man?” His eyes shifted to Jason who immediately noticed that they were both different colors. One was like amber and honey had been mixed with molasses, but the other was a startling blue, the skin around it as pale as milk. 

“This is Jason. A family friend.” Hannibal stepped up behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders. “I am taking him as my guest to an art exhibit and charity function this Saturday, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have appropriate formal wear.”

The man, Mr. Moirai, Jason reminded himself, stepped closer, leaning down to examine Jason’s face before his eyes drifted down the boy’s torso and legs. It was only then that he realized how  _ tall _ the man was.

“You’re huge.” Jason blurted, causing Mr. Moirai to laugh.

“Indeed.” He offered his hand to Jason, who took it hesitantly, glancing back at Hannibal as if asking for permission, or perhaps pleading with him to help make a run for it. After tearing his eyes away from Hannibal’s infuriatingly complacent face, Jason noticed that the hand currently wrapped around his own had patches of nearly pure white skin, much like the one on Mr. Moirai’s face. 

“Vitiligo.” Mr. Moirai supplied, guiding Jason into the back room, much larger than the waiting area and outfitted with a raised platform, a tri-fold mirror, numerous mannequins, and bolts of fabric, some neatly arranged and others merely laid out on drafting tables or leaned against the wall. “Some of my cells stop producing melanin, which makes my skin lose color. It can also affect eyes and hair. I am lucky that my hair turned white rather early, so I do not look so much like a spotted cow.”

Jason turned red, looking up at Mr. Moirai in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to stare.” He mumbled. “I know what vitiligo is I just… I’ve never seen it before.” 

Mr. Moirai chuckled and helped Jason up onto the raised platform, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go. “Don’t worry, child. Curiosity is normal. I’ve faced much worse than an innocent stare.”

“Like bullying?” Jason made a face “You don’t look like a cow to me.”

Hannibal sighed as he sat down in another, equally lush and comfortable chair in the corner of the room. Mr. Moirai simply laughed again, retrieving a measuring tape that had been wrapped around a mannequin and gently prompting Jason to raise his arms. 

“I was born in Tanzania and lived there for the first ten years of my life. That was when my skin first started to change. It started as a patch on my chest, over my heart. My parents took me to a doctor who told them I had vitiligo. He advised them to keep me out of the sun to minimize the damage, but told them it would spread regardless.” 

He measured the length of Jason’s torso, then wrapped the tape around his chest. “In most other places, the worst I would face is teasing. Perhaps isolation. But in Tanzania, there are more dangers than that.” 

Jason moved his feet when prompted to do so as Mr. Moirai crouched down to measure his legs.

“Albinos are often hunted down by men who seek their body parts.” Mr. Moirai’s tone didn’t change from the matter-of-fact tone he’d used while introducing himself, but that didn’t stop Jason from looking horrified. “They will cut them off and sell them on the black market. It is a very lucrative practice. An arm can sell for $2,000, American. A corpse can sell for $75,000.”

“What the fuck!” Jason burst out with, earning a reprimanding look from Hannibal. “Why do people want body parts? Do they eat them?” That earned him another sharp look from Hannibal, but Jason had locked up and refused to look. 

Mr. Moirai laughed and straightened. “Strange that your mind goes to cannibalism so quickly.” He smiled and shook his head. “They are used in rituals. For witchcraft.”

“But you’re not albino,” Jason said quickly, wanting to distance himself from his previous slip up.

“No, I am not.” Mr. Moirai stepped away from Jason and busied himself with rifling through various swaths of fabric. “But there was the risk of attack regardless. A buyer cannot tell why the limb they purchase lacks pigmentation, merely that it does. Should any part of my body lose it’s color entirely, or should a hunter merely wish to check, I would be attacked, and likely mutilated.” 

There was a brief silence as he selected fabric samples and brought them back to Jason, laying the thin strips on his shoulder and examining the effect they had on his skin.

“That’s terrible,” Jason said quietly. “How did you make it out?” 

“My parents saved up enough money to send me to Egypt. There I found work as a tailor’s apprentice.” Mr. Moirai replied easily, though something in his voice made Jason think that there was more to it than that. Questions hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down, knowing he’d already pried enough.

“I was thinking a traditional black tuxedo to start,” Hannibal spoke up. “And then a few suits for casual wear.” 

“Casual,” Jason muttered, rolling his eyes. “No such thing as a casual suit.” 

“I think grey would be appropriate.” Hannibal ignored Jason entirely. “A black one for occasions that don’t require a tuxedo. Perhaps navy as well.”

“For a man with tastes as rich as yours, I would have assumed you’d set your sights on colors other than those.” Mr. Moirai turned to Hannibal with his eyebrows raised. 

“If the suits were for myself, I certainly would.” Hannibal’s mouth flattened slightly. “But they are for Jason, and his style is more... modest than mine.”

Mr. Moirai made a dismissive noise and shook his head. “You say such things without even asking the boy.” He went back to the rack of fabrics and retrieved more samples, deep shades of red and purple, a few rich blues, and even dark greens. Jason’s eyes followed them closely, and a bit nervously, but once they were laid out beside his skin, he couldn’t stop glancing in the mirror.

“Maroon then. And Emerald. Not navy… but midnight blue.” Mr. Moirai nodded. “And one in wine.” He tapped a piece of dark purple fabric as Jason caught Hannibal’s eyes in the mirror. His gaze looked… proud?  _ Hungry? _

“I shall have the suit ready to be fitted well before the gala.” Mr. Moirai smiled and helped Jason step down off the pedestal. 

“Thank you.” Hannibal gave the older man a deep bow, which Mr. Moirai returned with a tilt of his head. “I’m sure it will be exquisite.”

The drive home was a quiet one. Jason kept touching his shoulder, where the fabric had lain. 

“What consumes your thoughts?” Hannibal asked as they drew closer to home.

“Wine,” Jason replied without hesitation, voice soft and distant. 

“The drink or the color?”

“The color.” He turned slightly, just enough to keep Hannibal in his peripherals. “What are the odds he picked that one?”

“It suits you.” Hannibal smiled. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“So Hannibal would, were he not Hannibal call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.” Jason finished.

“You know your Shakespeare,” Hannibal noted. “Albeit with a few… substitutions.”

“Don’t look so impressed. I took a middle school theater class and we had to do the balcony scene.”

“You memorized Juliet’s lines as well as Romeo’s?” He arched an eyebrow quizzically. Jason turned red enough that it was visible even in the low light of evening.

“I was Juliet.” He mumbled. “A bunch of the girls wanted to do the scene in their own pairs so I was stuck with another guy.”

Hannibal chuckled as they turned into the driveway. 

“I take thee at thy word.” He quoted. “Call me but once, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Hannibal.”

Jason blinked. “Love.”

“Pardon?” Hannibal paused, turning off the ignition. 

“Call me but love. Not once.” Jason mumbled.

“Ah.” Hannibal nodded. “True. I thought it more apt to continue your trend of adapting it to our current situation.”

“Cause I wouldn’t call you… that.” Jason finished flatly.

“It doesn’t seem to be within your character to do so, no.” He paused. “However, I made the wrong assumptions about your preferences today, so if that is something you would like to call me-” Before he could finish, Jason had bolted out of the car and into the house, not even bothering to close the car door, or the front door behind him. Hannibal sighed and followed, making it inside just in time to see Will’s confused face appear at the top of the stairs. 

“Did something happen? Jason just bolted into his room and slammed the door.” Will hurried down to Hannibal’s side, voice low and concerned.

“I’m not sure,” Hannibal admitted. “Things seemed to be going fine until the ride home. Perhaps he is just a bit… overstimulated.” He pressed his lips to Will’s forehead, feeling himself relax even as he wound his arms around the omega,  _ his _ omega, and felt him do the same. 

“Quiet night for us, then?” Will murmured.

“As quiet as you’d like,” Hannibal replied, stroking Will’s curls with his eyes fixed on the shadows of the upstairs landing as if waiting for something to appear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all think you know where this is going????  
> (cause I don't)


	3. Transformed By Your Grounded And Giving And Darkening Scorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Jason go on a... trip.

Jason remained holed up in his room until Saturday. He didn’t leave or unlock the door once. After the second day, Will got worried enough to knock with a plate of food in his hands, but there was no answer. He left the plate by the door, in the hopes that the smell would cause Jason to take it, but when he returned several hours later, it was still there.

“He’s going to starve.” Will muttered the following night at dinner. They’d been eating in silence, Hannibal seeming to sense the mood that Will was in and giving him plenty of room to work through it.

“Pardon?” Hannibal paused, his glass halfway to his lips.

“Jason. He’s going to starve in there. I’m not even sure he’s still alive, actually.” Will put his fork down with more force than was strictly necessary, causing Hannibal to wince slightly and take a long time sipping his drink.

“If he were dead, we would have smelled something by now.” Hannibal placed his glass down and laid his free hand over Will’s. When the other man didn’t pull back, Hannibal took that as a sign of encouragement, even as Will scowled at his –ill-timed joke. “He won’t starve.”

“It’s been three days!”

“And the human body can survive much longer than that without food. He has a bathroom connected to his room so his water supply is unlimited. He’ll be fine.”

Hannibal removed his hand and continued eating, but ironically, Will couldn’t find his appetite.

“When we first met, he made a comment about his weight.” Will suddenly placed the feeling of unease he’d been struggling with.

“Did he?” Hannibal asked, not looking up from his food.

“He called himself the Pillsbury doughboy.” Will frowned. “Which means he lost the weight living on the streets. But it doesn’t make sense that he’d be starving himself now… if he was struggling to feed himself before, you’d think he’d jump at the chance for regular meals, not shirk away from them. Unless he had…” He glanced at Hannibal, who was continuing to avoid his gaze. “Body image issues.”

“Most young adults struggle with their self-image.” He deflected the question that Will had yet to ask.

“Some more extreme than others.” Will countered. Hannibal sighed.

“Will, darling.” He leaned forward, reaching out to tilt Will’s head up and force him to make eye contact for once. “I was his therapist for many years. I know his patterns of behavior. If I were worried about his wellbeing, I would be taking steps to remedy it. But it has not yet reached that point. I will let you know when it has. If you trust my judgement, then you have nothing to fret over.”

“Alright, fine.” Will relented, after a pause. “He’s supposed to go with you to get his suit fitted tomorrow, right? So if he doesn’t come out for that, we need to… I don’t know. Strategize.”

Hannibal nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Will’s cheek. “Agreed.”

It took some convincing to make Will stay in his room while Hannibal attempted to lure Jason out, but it seemed to pay off. After a few minutes of coaxing, much of which included promising to not force a conversation on the car ride and reminding him that he needed the suit for the gala, Jason emerged, sullen and hollow eyed, but unharmed, and in one peace.

True to his word, Hannibal was silent the entire ride there, as well as in the shop while Mr. Moirai had Jason try on the suit. The old tailor was quiet as well, but his presence seemed to have a comforting effect on Jason.

His suit needed no alterations, and after Hannibal paid for it, and the ones Mr. Moirai was still making, it was neatly packaged up for them to take home with them.

They’d been in the car for twenty minutes when Jason finally spoke.

“We’re not going home.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No.” Hannibal said, easily. “I imagine you’re quite hungry after four days without food.”

“I’m fine.” Jason looked out the window, the lights fading as they headed away from the city and into the cool, dark, countryside.

“I’m sure you are. That doesn’t mean you’re not hungry.” He shifted his gaze from the road to the boy next to him briefly, taking in the tense, curved line of his body. “We’ve spoken of your eating habits before.”

“Years ago.” Jason snapped. “In therapy.”

Hannibal nodded. “You told me you often skipped meals.”

“So?” He huffed. “I was overweight.”

“Not eating is never healthy, regardless of your weight.” Hannibal’s lips tightened. “Regardless of what your parents told you about your weight.”

Jason didn’t reply.

“You did more than skip meals, though.”

“None of it worked, ok? The purging, the starving, none of it worked. Not until I was on the streets where I couldn’t shove food in my mouth even when I wanted to.” He snarled viciously, gaining no reaction from Hannibal.

“I haven’t brought it up since you’ve come back. I’m aware that forcing food into your mouth is not the method to resolve this. But you refuse to continue our sessions as well, and your behavior is beginning to worry my mate.”

“Tell him I’m fine.” Jason grumbled.

“I have. Repeatedly. And I do not enjoy lying to him, however minor that lie might be.”

“Oh bullshit.” He finally turned to look at Hannibal, face twisted into an expression of incredulous rage. “You’ve done nothing BUT lie to him. You lied about who you are, what you’ve done. You lied about our relationship. You do nothing but lie, Hannibal. It’s more than what you do, it’s who you are. And more than it being a necessity; you take pleasure in it. You love twisting around people’s minds until your word is law and nothing seems real. Mind games are like sex to you. You get off on them. You get off on control and destruction. So fuck you for trying to guilt trip me. My eating habits are none of his business. But _your_ eating habits might be.”

Hannibal pulled the car over onto the shoulder of the empty road they’d been driving down, put it in park, and turned off the engine and lights so they were sitting in darkness.

“First, a bit of advice.” His voice was low and soft, but it seemed to fill the space around Jason until it sounded like Hannibal’s lips were an inch from his ear. “If you’re going to threaten someone, particularly someone who’s much stronger than you, and someone you know has no qualms about killing, I would suggest you do so in an environment where that person doesn’t have the upper hand. An enclosed space with no witnesses is not ideal.”

Jason felt his mouth go dry, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Second.” Hannibal continued. “If you’re going to continue living under my roof, you will refrain from insulting me. You will especially refrain from commenting on my relationship with Will. And you will do your best to remember that you are only alive and free on my good will. I could have you put away or forcibly mated with a single phone call.”

“Try explaining that to Will.” Jason hissed. “He’d hate you.”

“At first.” Hannibal agreed without strain. “But he would move on. He would forgive me. Or perhaps he would come to agree with my choice. You were right about one thing, Jason. My word is law. Do not make me your enemy. I don’t want to be. But I will do what is needed to protect myself and my mate. Understood?”

Jason dropped his head, finally bowing under the weight of the knowledge that everything Hannibal had said was true. It was pointless to cross him. He’d lose, hands down.

“Is that why you brought me out here? To kill me? Teach me a lesson?” He murmured, eyes slowly starting to adjust to the night without the lights of the car on to blind him.

“No.” Hannibal reached out and laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I brought you out here to hunt.”

Jason’s head snapped up, his eyes finding Hannibal’s in the darkness, even though the only thing he could make out were two dark holes set in Hannibal’s face.

“Hunt like you hunt?”

“If that’s how you’d like to.” He nodded once. “Come.” Hannibal opened the door and stepped out into the night. Jason followed quickly as he circled around the car and opened the trunk. It appeared empty until Hannibal removed a panel inside of it, revealing a hollowed out space that contained two clear plastic suits, neatly folded and wrapped up, along with a rolled up black bundle that Hannibal removed and spread out, displaying the knives tucked inside of it.

“I don’t…” Jason took a deep breath, eyes running over the glistening silver blades. “I don’t want to hunt like the Ripper.”

“Very well. How would you like to hunt?” Hannibal tilted his head, watching Jason closely. “I only request that you take certain precautions to ensure we avoid capture. The suits cover our clothes and prevent fibers from dropping off, or any… outside materials becoming trapped in the fabric.”

“It’s too synthetic.” Jason shook his head. “I don’t…” He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “If I’m hunting, I’ll hunt like we’re meant to hunt. Like the alphas of old hunted.” With that, he took a deep breath and stripped off his shirt. Hannibal raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“Do you wish for me to join you?” He asked, tone light and inconsequential.

“No. You can… you can be the Ripper.” Jason swallowed thickly. “Hunt as you are. I’ll hunt as I am.” He tossed his shirt into the trunk, followed by his shoes and socks, and then his pants, until he stood there clad only in a pair of grey boxers. Hannibal recalled the first time he’d seen Jason after the fights, covered in blood and dressed much as he was now.

“This isn’t...” Jason stared off into the distance, back down the road from where they’d come. “Last time we talked, you told me to call you ‘love’.”

Hannibal frowned. “As I recall, we were quoting Shakespeare. And I avoided the use of the term until you pointed it out. Then I was going to ask you if that is what you wished to call me when you ran away from me and locked yourself in your room.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to call you that.” He snapped.

“Then don’t.” Hannibal’s frown deepened. “What about that conversation caused you so much distress?”

“The fact that you’re an alpha.” Jason burst. “And I’m an omega and an unbonded one at that and you’re a fucking purebred and a lot of them take multiple mates and there’s no reason for you to tolerate me in your house unless you’re trying to get in my pants.”

Hannibal let Jason settle as he digested all this information, a look on his face that might have been surprise, or even shock, but Jason didn’t think he was capable of that.

“That is not the reason I’ve allowed you to live in my home.” He finally said, quietly. “I certainly do not consider you to be… viable for that sort of thing in the slightest, even if I were seeking another mate, which I am not.” Jason still seemed tense, but now it was tinged with embarrassment and shame. “We have spoken before about your lack of feelings regarding this subject, and I assumed that fact to be unchanged.”

“It isn’t.” Jason muttered. “I still don’t… feel. But you’ve been- you’ve shown… affection.”

“Yes. I showed you affection when you were my patient.”

“I was a kid.”

“You still are.” Hannibal smiled slightly. “In my eyes, at least.”

Jason nodded, some of the rigidity falling away from his shoulders.

“I think it’s worse cause I do feel stuff for you.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not like. Omega stuff. I don’t know what it is, exactly.”

“It could be the sort of affection felt for a parental figure.” Hannibal suggested.

“No.” Jason laughed. “No, it really isn’t. You’re not my dad. Will might be, but you aren’t.” He paused contemplatively. “It might be… like a brother. An older brother. You’re not in charge of me and you’re… annoying as hell sometimes but. You make me feel safe. Even when I know you could kill me.”

Hannibal had gone quiet and still, eerily so, as if he’d been turned to stone by Jason’s words.

“Is that a bad thing?” Jason asked slowly.

“Not in the slightest.” Hannibal murmured, seeming to come back into himself as he picked up one of the plastic suits and began putting it on. “Now. There’s a campground nearby, though the individual sites are rather spread out. We should have a good deal of privacy, though we might have to travel to a few in order to find the best…”

“Prey.” Jason supplied, stripping off his boxers and tossing them into the trunk. He seemed at ease, now, the dark cloud that had hovered around him since he’d left his room having evaporated.

“Indeed.” Hannibal zipped up the plastic suit.

“Won’t Will be expecting us?” Jason asked, eyes already scanning the tree line and picking out a route.

“I told him that I would attempt to take you out to eat, and not to worry if we came home late, as it might take some persuasion on my part.” Hannibal selected two knives, slipping them into the pockets of his suit and gesturing for Jason to take his pick.

“Don’t need one.” He grinned. “And that’s another thing. We’re not taking trophies home with us. We eat what we kill as we kill it.”

“Raw?” Hannibal asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Raw.” Jason barred his teeth.

“Very well, little wolf.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Lead the way.”

Jason took off into the woods at a run. Hannibal put the knives back into the trunk, closed it, and followed, settling into an easy lope, skilled enough that he was able to muffle the sounds of his footsteps through the woods and disguise the plastic crinkling of his suit until it sounded like no more than the rustling of the wind. Jason’s own movements sounded more like an animal’s, nothing that would be mistaken for a human’s movements if heard.

Hannibal had so much to teach him, but the boy was already showing signs of a prodigy.

The Ripper had chosen well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Hozier, who's new song "Shrike" is what I heard in my head while writing it.   
> (The entire Nina Cried Power EP is fucking poetry y'all should check it out)

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all asked for it so here it is. Now followup question... do I keep this one the same as the last or add in some smut? I'm more than happy to write out the sex scenes, but I can also make them a separate drabble if there are those who prefer their plot porn-free...
> 
> Let me know what you think! All comments and reviews are welcome and encouraged.


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